


Health and Hygiene in New York City

by KuriKoer



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Crack, Food, Gen, Shawarma, Team, bathroom humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-12
Updated: 2012-09-12
Packaged: 2017-11-14 03:02:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/510621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuriKoer/pseuds/KuriKoer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The shawarma might not have been a great idea</p>
            </blockquote>





	Health and Hygiene in New York City

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by:  
> http://kurikoera.tumblr.com/post/31394809820/jadedsilk-brokenheartedfestivities-tony

\---

Tony Stark isn't sure why he did it in the first place. He could've flown them all to Turkey, or Lebanon, or Israel, have it fresh and from the source, maybe even do a little globe-trotting tasting tour, compare local variations. Instead he picked this place, which clearly didn't ever hear about health and safety regulations. He should've known something was strange in a restaurant where the owners were so lax they stuck around and cooked idly while a god damned _alien invasion_ raged above their heads. That kind of attitude doesn't bode well. It's just that he was flying by, and the sign caught his attention and there was a pang of hunger, although now that Tony thinks about it, it may have been mortal terror. 

Anyway, they were there, and although the food wasn't exactly what he'd expected, Tony Stark wasn't a hero for nothing, and he stuck to it, eating everything until the very last bite. The others seemed to enjoy it enough. Okay, _Thor_ seemed to enjoy it enough, and Thor seemed like he'd eat a raw elephant if prompted, but they all ate, as befitting warriors after a tasking battle, like Thor said with his mouth so full they could barely spot the bright smile he was giving them all.

It was a mistake.

It was a big, big mistake. Tony curls on his side in his bed and curses his frail mortal form, curses the arc reactor that pulses with his heartburn, curses the fact his bedroom is so big that it takes several steps to make it to the bathroom every single time. He'd've stayed on the toilet if he thought his body could take it.

 

\---

Steve didn't know what Shawarma was, and now that he does, he isn't sure why anyone would eat any. It went through his hyper metabolism faster than water, and about as runny. He cringes to think what it would do to someone without his fast healing. On the other hand, maybe super muscles also have super cramps? That would explain a lot.

He wanders to the kitchen, pondering the option of toast and maybe an apple. Maybe he can ask Bruce for one of his calming tea brews.

\---

Bruce actually has to use a kind of meditation technique while in the bathroom to avoid breaking the porcelain fixtures. His fist tightens and he consciously relaxes it, lets go. Deep breath. Another deep breath. He thinks about the kind of exercise they give to birthing women, about holding their hands and breathing along with them. For a moment, he lets himself think deprecatingly that the sensation must be similar. Then he chastises himself because he's a doctor and he knows it's nothing alike, and he's just feeling sorry for himself and that's never a smart thing to do, in his condition.

Later, when he washes his hands, he stares in the mirror and wonders if the greenish tinge is the Other Guy lurking underneath his pain, or just the normal pale and sweaty complexion that goes with a really bad case of indigestion.

\---

Natasha had tasted shawarma before, of course, and she knows damn well this wasn't a very good one, but she'd take poison for these guys, so downing the half a pita with the suspicious greasy meat was nothing to her. She just swamped it in spicy amba to drown out the flavour. Now, sweating out the smell of the strong sauce, she wonders if it was worth it. It'll be a unique signature until tomorrow, one hard to mask with perfumes. She hopes there won't be an assignment that requires her skills.

Arms hugging the porcelain bowl, she purges what she can of the stuff. Not even on purpose. Victory often tastes bitter of bile, she knows that. She just hates the times when it's literally so.

\---

Clint isn't often happy for his farsightedness, but he is now, because he really doesn't want to see what's floating in the water. It was bad enough to feel it roaring up his throat, spewing out of his mouth. Third time tonight. He didn't know there was anything left in there.

He decides he doesn't like shawarma. He travelled the world, as any hired assassin does, but unlike Natasha, he never had to get up close and personal. His kills were from afar, sniper shots, and he likes it that way. Didn't have to touch anything, or blend in with the locals, which means he could live on McDonalds just fine. He wants to continue living like that for the rest of his life. No more experimenting for good old Clint. Maybe just if Nat recommends something. But nothing from Tony Stark. Clint heaves again.

\---

 

Thor marches into the kitchen to find Steve and Bruce hunching over a pot of tea. He greets them heartily, and accepts with grace the cup of steaming herbs they offer in friendship. It tastes peculiar, but pleasant, and the smell is somehow familiar and comforting, reminding him a little of Loki's foray into potions. His brother is safely locked up, and tomorrow they will return to Asgard, where surely Odin will see that justice is done and Loki is brought to his senses. At least, that's what Thor hopes for. His stomach feels uneasy, but he dismisses it as nerves. It's a busy day tomorrow, and this business with Loki weighs heavy on his heart. That must be the source of this tingling sensation inside his chest. Thor downs the cup of tea with half a box of pop tarts, smiles at his new Avenger friends, and goes back to sleep.

 

\---end---


End file.
